We're Not Sure What This Is But Let's Call It Partnership
by Cassie's Neighbor
Summary: Leo and Calypso's Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters is now open for business. Fruits and vegetables sold separately. – Leo/Calypso. Spoilers for The House of Hades.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm on a roll.**

**I'm not sure if this is going to be a multi-chapter story or not. If it's going to be, I hope it'll turn out alright. If not, then I guess this would at least be a part of the beginning of Caleo stories out there.**

* * *

**Percy Jackson & The Olympians/The Heroes of Olympus**

**Title: **We're Not Sure What This Is But Let's Call It Partnership

**Summary: **Leo and Calypso's Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters is now open for business. Fruits and vegetables sold separately. – Leo/Calypso. Spoilers for The House of Hades.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing save for this story. Please don't sue.

* * *

~0~

An eyebrow shoots up and disappears to the hairline. "You're saying you're twenty-six?"

"And a half. Twenty-six and half."

"Twenty-six and half?" the cheerful man behind the desk intones. "You look nothin' like a twenty-six-year-old."

"That's because I'm a twenty-six-and-a-half-year-old," Leo replies.

The man – named Mr. Allan P. McCormick based on the glass plate situated neatly on the desk next to a hideous potted plant – breathes out a heavy sigh. "Well, you do look too young to be a mechanic."

_Yes, yes I am._ "Must be the moisturizer."

"Huh."

"Are there any problems with the permit, sir?" The person beside Leo, a golden-brown haired woman with dark eyes set in a pale, heart-shaped face, asks.

Mr. McCormick shakes his head. "No, I ain't got no problem. Just a few questions."

_Well, damn._ "Shoot." Leo smiles.

He turns to the girl, shooting a lame finger at her. "Born on March 14, 1995. Twenty-seven-years-old. Name is uhh, Calypso? Calypso Pana – Panguha –"

"Panghubazan," she corrects him simply. "Calypso Panghubazan."

Leo tries his best not to guffaw. After weeks of fighting over a proper surname – she was downright amazed that a plastic contraption that could respond to her touch and fit on the palm of her hand could give her anything she asked for under 0.26 seconds, much to Leo's exasperation and amusement –, Calypso picked an obscure one after finding a photo of a beautiful 30s South American actress in Google images.

"_I want this one," he remembers Calypso say with finality._

_It took a couple of minutes for his laughter to die down. "Why?"_

"_I do not know." She shrugged. "But it sounds like royalty."_

McCormick grins. "Half-Latina? Last name's a damn mouthful if you don't mind me saying, miss. You two staying together? Living together?"

"Uhh, yes, sir. That's the idea," Calypso answers.

"Personal data sheet don't say nothing that you two are married," he announces with a nonchalant shrug, inadvertently scratching the huge mole on his cheek.

"We are not married. Sir."

"Boyfriend and girlfriend then?"

"No," Leo and Calypso react in unison.

"We are a – uh, we're a – "

"We're business partners," Calypso finishes for him. "We came here to Baltimore because we are interested in opening up our own business, Mr. McCormick. The time seems right."

Mr. McCormick lets out a throaty laugh. "Business partners, huh? Is that what the kids call it these days? My my, then consider my questions answered. For prying, I sincerely apologize. Protocol for first timers." He winks as he stamps the seal onto the papers and slides it to them. "Sure hope that business of yours would whip up a couple of goodies, eh? Godspeed Mr. Valdez and Ms. Panghababa. You're damn right this time's a good time."

~0~

"LEONARDO ALONZO VALDEZ! YOU GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS SECOND OR YOU ARE A DEAD MA – "

"Coming!" Leo licks the ink from the edges of the blueprints and scrambles to replace the torn, rickety shirt that the banshee downstairs hates with passion. He fastens the blueprints under his arm while popping his head into the hole of the white v-neck shirt he wore a day before yesterday and makes a run towards the doorknob. He lets out a huff. Trust Calypso to scream out his name and wake up the neighbors within a mile radius before dawn breaks.

Leo almost trips on the last steps of the stairs. "W-what is it?" he manages to say, almost out of breath.

Calypso puts up a flyer that Leo recognizes. He remembers taping it up on the front yesterday. "Care to explain this?"

Leo groans irritably. She interrupts his four o' clock brainstorming for a couple of throws on Leo's marketing. Again. For the fourth time in a row. He rubs his eye. "I don't see anything wrong with – "

"Free pudding for every $500 worth of service?" Calypso's tone is incredulous. "Are you nu – "

"Come on. Everybody loves pudding!"

She frowns. "There is _no _way this thing is going to market the shop. Besides, I abhor pudding."

"No offense, Cal, but everyone from this era loves pudding."

"I am _not_ going to make that gooey, brown monstrosity! And what the Hades is this? Free minced pork and lettuce for a full car refurbish? That is – "

"Hey!" Leo interjects, trying for a sweet smile. "That's very reasonable, man. Look how much we're going to charge for every tinker, not to mention the cost of the leather car seats – "

Calypso shakes her head. "You are _not_ going to put up ads that would have my cooking promote the shop."

_This woman is unbelievable! _Leo screams in his head. Not even the good ol' Valdez charm works on this caramel-haired behemoth. Of course. "Well," he sighs, opting for another tactic. "What do you want to do?"

She tells him animatedly, and Leo immediately blanches. "You want to sell plants."

"Yes."

"In an auto-repair shop."

"That is correct."

"I'll be swapping turbo kits while you hand over daisies?"

"We will be _selling_ them, not giving them away," Calypso insists. "Besides, it will be good money."

"I dunno." Leo really doesn't know. The gods really didn't give much of a damn when the battle with Mother Earth came to an end – all they knew was that they won with a little help from the wimpy demigods (whoop-de-doo and hurrah, good job to you guys but sorry, no drachmas) when really, all the immortals did was prance around and made sure their hair looked good while they kicked Gaea's ass. All Zeus accounted to him was a small townhouse in Baltimore and Atlas' immortal daughter, and Hephaestus and Athena took pity on Leo and gave him a couple of tools to start his longtime dream with. The problem with Baltimore is that it is an unfamiliar territory to a Valdez, and that the number of people interested in planting a couple of shrubs ranges between zero and none.

"But why plants? I mean, you could always cook. Set up a joint catering business or something. People are always hungry. _I _am always hungry. Remember that stew we had last night? I have to say it, girl. Dora's backpack says delicioso."

"I do not know of this Dora of which you speak."

"She's a famous Spanish explorer with a monkey and a talking bag. But listen – "

"I will cook for you, Leo, but I will not cook for anybody else." Before Leo's eyes could widen, the girl backtracks. "I meant to say, I consider the food I make to be really special. It just… feels inappropriate when I cook for strangers."

"Well, you gave Percy a flower. Plants must be special, too." Uh-oh.

She glares at him full-on, and Leo feels a little tremor on his knees. His face flushes. He hits himself mentally for the jumping jacks his heart is doing and the stirring in his stomach. Now is not the time.

"We do not talk about that," she snaps.

"Oh," he replies weakly. "Okay."

Silence. They stare at each other for a few seconds.

"Umm," the girl starts. "So is it okay?"

Fuck it. "Yeah, why not? I guess it could work. You're the one who'd be selling them, after all. You'd do great." Leo clears his throat. "Unless you pull that stunt you did a few days ago, I think we'd be alright."

Calypso aims for a punch on his gut and miserably misses. She grimaces. "You were insufferable. Still are. You deserve to be impaled with a shovel."

Leo laughs. This girl and her threats.

"Is that –" Calypso's nose wrinkles as she takes a step closer to him. "Is that the same shirt you were wearing the day before?"

Surprised, Leo glances down at his torso and says, "Uhh, the day before the day before actually. Why?"

"It smells. _You _smell." She inches forward and grabs a fistful of his shirt. "You know how much I _hate_ it when you recycle your clothes, Leo. Gods, I have made you a _plethora _of fireproof shirts and trousers but _you_ – " She pulls the hem, ignoring Leo's loud protests, standing on her toes as she propels the cloth upward. "Manage to reek every time. Like a snake shedding its skin every hour. Disgusting! How can you – "

Calypso stops shortly, an uncharacteristic squeak escapes from her throat and Leo looks at her as her face began to flame. She takes a few steps back and shoots her nose in the air indignantly.

_What is with this woman?_ Leo grumbles.

Calypso throws his shirt on his bare chest with much force. "Put it back on!" she shouts angrily.

"Huh? You just ripped it off from m –"

"I said put the shirt back on!" Her face is turning into a nice shade of burgundy now. "Put the shirt on! Now!"

Confused, Leo inserts his right arm into the hole. "Jeez, woman! I don't know what's with you! Do you always pluck off shirts from guys and screech at them to put it back on? By the gods, I don't know how Odysseus or Percy put up with you." When Leo's head resurfaces, he finds Calypso turning away, her oh-so-perfectly-slender back facing him. Great. "It's on now, hag. No need to worry."

"J-ju-just take them off later when I'm not in the room and put them in the hamper," she mumbles.

Leo shakes his head. "Whatever." He waves his hand. "I'm going up."

"Ugh. You are the most infuriating person I have ever met!"

"Right back at ya, Sunshine," he snickers as he heads for the stairs. And to think they've only been living together for eight days. This girl is going to make his eternity fly by like a year hanged in a tree. "Right back at ya."

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**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading and please leave your thoughts by pressing the review button!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is my brain farting.**

* * *

**Percy Jackson and The Olympians/The Heroes of Olympus**

**Title: **We're Not Sure What This Is But Let's Call It Partnership

**Summary: **Leo and Calypso's Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters is nowopen for business. Fruits and vegetables sold separately. – Leo/Calypso. Spoilers for The House of Hades.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything save this story. Don't sue, please.

* * *

~0~

Leo can sense something is wrong; her gait was off, her tone was clipped and short, her eyes were strained. When Leo asked for the reason (for the umpteenth time) an hour before, Calypso replied with a vague, "I'll tell you soon", which did not suit Leo well. If they would be living together for the next few years – until Calypso gets a hang of the modern world as per Lord Zeus' orders – there should be no information withheld in the house.

Well, whatever it is, it probably can't be shelved into a neat explanation or anything of that sort. _Must be a girl thing,_ Leo muses.

Leo stops. But wait. _That means…_

He knocks over a soldering pot in surprise. Leo bites back a curse as he gingerly settles the pot, carefully trapping the viscous molten metal from spilling over completely. He examines the damaged floor. He sighs heavily then lets out a short chortle. "No, it can't be," he whispers, slapping a hand on his forehead in cold amusement. "She's – she's Calypso. She can't have _those_ things." _Menstruation is a mortal thing, stupid,_ a voice in his head supplies, and Leo shakes his head vigorously.

But can goddesses get pregnant? Of course they can. Aphrodite, the divine seducer, practically sprouts kids every now and then. Goddesses do have kids, so how can they –

Leo shakes his head again, more viciously this time. He bites his lip, ignoring the tangy taste of blood. _Don't even go there, Valdez._

See, there is this unspoken rule between Leo Valdez and Calypso (Panghubazan): NO SEX. No physical contact whatsoever that would lead to sex, no conversation that would incline them to take their clothes off, no thoughts should be thought that revolved around sex. Well, in actuality, they both still can, but they don't have to chat about each other's sexual fetishes one way or another. Most especially, don't even utter the word _sex_ – that is their golden rule in living in the household. One misstep and you're out. No explanations

Which is _bad_ for Leo, extremely horrible and painful, especially to the ego in his pants, because nothing signifies sensuality like Calypso; there is something in the way her braid falls casually from the crook of her spine and down to her hips, the way she chugs down her tea, the way she curses when she breaks her gardening tools from stabbing the dirt –

Leo shakes his head to clear his inappropriate thoughts, but it is too late now. He has to stop the welding machine with his overexcited hands. He sits firmly on the stool and covers his ears to stop the familiar blood rush. The arousal on his part is a big, big problem. The denim on his jeans might explode any minute now, and he dislikes 'handling his problem', so to speak. He knows it becomes a disgusting habit once he starts, and he once had a traumatizing experience of seeing Jason doing it live when he was fifteen, jerking off in a cabin.

So Leo clamps his ears as tightly as he can, trying to purge his unwelcome thoughts as the rush subsides. Quite embarrassing: a nineteen-year-old – it really took some convincing to get the officials believe he was twenty-six as per legal documents – son of Hephaestus running away from things that boys his age would welcome with open arms and swaying dicks, but since sex meddles with the endgame, Leo cannot allow his wild thoughts get the better of him. This is what he asked for, anyway. Found an auto-repair shop with an annoying goddess named after ditzy T-Mobile ringtones with little qualms as possible. He's not a sexually-crazed teenager anymore. He's a machine, fueled by his dream and drive towards success –

Yes, it's a little cheesy. But, in Leo's mind's eye, totally worth it.

Now, if he could only get his unfortunate attraction towards Calypso reigned in by his ever-growing frustration towards her, everything would be dandy.

He springs toward the welding machine and flicks it to life. He then sets up the hood he is supposed to redesign into a more streamline form. He removes a burnout welding stick, fastens a new one onto the handles and goes to work. After a few minutes of heat and sparks and the acrid scent of burning metal, Leo pulls up his helmet and gazes down the hood. He whistles merrily. "Finished in record time. Who's the man now?"

~0~

Calypso breaks into a happy smile. She's riding a train.

_The people here are really friendly,_ she thinks as she readjusts herself into a more comfortable position. A man was kind enough to let her sit in an almost crowded train, with a wink to let her know he was _more_ than happy to stand and hold onto the handlebars instead for her. She's off to find some seeds for her garden after she found an empty lot beside their house. The soil leaves a lot to be desired, definitely, but Calypso wooped for joy like a man who bags a million dollars from a slot machine. She googled – for once Calypso is grateful of modern technology and the mouthy curly-haired demigod – a couple of places that are selling quality seeds, and the Periwinkle Garden House in North Charles holds some potential. She makes note of squash and lemon seeds in her mental list as the train skids to a stop in Penn.

Calypso jumps off of the train and is boggled by the number of people scrambling to get on and off the train.

"_Morning rush hour," Leo told her once when they were stuck in an ugly traffic. They were riding an express bus all the way to the city hall for registration. "A time when people squawk more than a bunch of geese."_

"_Geese don't squawk. And their collective form is gaggle."_

_Leo snorted. "Whatever, lady. And you sound like those grammar snobs in every comment section in the Internet. Are you an immortal gardener or an immortal English teacher? Wait a minute. I have a fun fact coming! D'you know how flexible the English language is? Even _selfie_'s_ _a new word in the Oxford Dictionary." _

_The bus slowly went to stop as they passed a waiting shed. A disheveled mother came in with two of her children, trying to stop them from lashing on each other's throats regarding who got to sit next to the window._

_She thought about it for a moment. "I guess so. When Hermes and your father sometimes visit in Ogygia every few millennia or so, they talk funny. They must have adapted every time to the way mortals speak."_

"_Yeah, I guess they do."_

_Calypso turned to him. "What is a selfie?"_

_Leo grinned as wide as a Cheshire cat. "Thought you've never asked." He fiddled inside Calypso's coat pocket, ignoring her indignant protests, and took out her phone. He held out the phone sideways, with the camera lens facing them, smiling merrily. "Say cheese!"_

Calypso passes by a small coffee shop, the distinct aroma of roasted beans spreading through the thin, crisp air of the city, and she stops to admire the big brown sign that says _Figaro._ Through the transparent laminated glass she sees people with thick, black rimmed glasses slurping hot drinks, their noses hanging low as they typed furiously on their laptops; lovers laughing and staring at each other, lost in the haze of words and happy gazes; baristas shouting back orders and doing work triple time.

After walking a few blocks, she fears that she may be lost under the confusion of multiple green street signs until a friendly old man takes pity on her and directs her towards the garden house. She idly incorporates his potent scent to corned beef and mushroom soup.

She finally arrives as a large, beefy, bespectacled man greets her with much vigor. He is dressed in blue jeans and a soiled checkered polo shirt.

"Ei, ei, ei! A customer! We have a customer, darling!" he coos to his wife and turns to Calypso. "A customer! Haven't seen another human in ages!"

The wife, Calypso guesses, appears behind the folds of at least a dozen curtains a few meters away from the doorstep. She is wearing a small, bronze-colored cap, an apron, a _Certified Green Genius_ shirt, and black slacks. Her hair is tied at the back and sweat is dribbling from her hairline. The owners, Calypso realizes, are apparent opposites as soon as your eyes pass them; the epitome of the modern world and the romantic age, the enthusiastic and the rod-straight prim line. She wonders how these two met.

She gently swats her husband at the back. "So impolite. Well, hello, dear. Welcome. Excuse my husband for being such a hillbilly. He's Jerry, by the way. My name's Sandra, but you can call me anything you want." She smiles, the corner of her eyes crinkling. "Such a beautiful girl. What's your name, honey?"

"Calypso," she replies, eyeing the pack of dahlia seeds hung at the corner. "May I take a look around, Sandra?"

Sandra practically yelps. She hands Calypso a brown paper bag. "Sure! Sure! Take whatever you like!"

"As long as you're paying," Jerry agrees.

Calypso chuckles as she takes a look around the quaint shop. She takes a packet of carrot, lemon, squash, and magnolia seeds from the wall hanger and places it inside her bag. The wooden floor groans with each step she takes towards the garden outside.

She fingers the vines running across the canopy and admires Jerry and Sandra's garden. It isn't large enough to cover about a hectare, but the peonies and violets on the far east corner of the garden gave the illusion of a vast, adorned land. The vegetable patch is armed with squadrons of squash, cabbages, tomatoes, and gourds. Different kinds of lilies adorned the heavily dug site next to it, and there are several discarded pots lying next to the bushes of huckleberries. The roses and the lilies-of-the-valley are mismatched, though.

_Finally!_ Calypso rushes toward a bunch of heavily packaged mulch and gardening tools. She examines them one by one, feeling unlike a twenty-seven-year-old she is supposed to be. The blades of the shears are pointy and sharp; the spades are comfortable to handle even after long hours of working; the hoe is, well, a good hoe.

"First time seeing a girl getting _this_ excited over a bunch of cow shit," a voice behind her remarks.

Calypso jumps, and she cries, more in surprise than in pain, when something skins her finger. She sees Jerry, his eyes bulging as wide as a watermelon as he registers the puncture on Calypso's ring finger unraveling. There is a small drop of gold blood on the garden claw and she wipes it away with haste.

"Jesus Christ," Jerry growls, taking in the scene. "I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I didn't mean to – "

Calypso shakes her head and tries for a quick smile. She stands up, hides the drop of ichor from her finger, and brushes the dirt off her. "No, it's okay. I should be the one to apologize. I was being careless. You don't have to worry. I should leave now –"

"Jerry!" Sandra runs across the footpath, the bun on her hair bobbing up and down. Her cheeks are puffy and red as she glances up and down Calypso. "Oh dear, what happened?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Calypso says. She checks if she is bleeding anymore. The cut is almost healed. She sighs a breath of relief. "I just cut myself a bit. It's only a small – "

"Jerry!" Sandra cries indignantly to her husband. "What have you been doing? You haven't been breathing on her ear, have you? Heavens, Jerry, this is why we don't get customers regularly! I should've been a florist instead – "

"It's okay, Sandra. I was being careless, that's all. I was just looking around for a good package. I'm trying to set up my own garden, you see. Please spare your husband for me," Calypso cuts in.

Sandra sighs, conceding. "I'm so sorry, Calypso. We really value every customer we have. Ahh! As compensation for your injury, you can have a uh – 10% off from the total tag price. A discount! What d'you say?"

"How about 5%?" Jerry intones.

"10," Sandra says firmly. "And you'll be paying off the deduction, Jerry, you hear?"

"It's okay." Calypso waves. Are all people here in Baltimore this nice to worry about a small cut on a finger? "I'm okay at paying the full price. Besides, you're running a business here. I don't mean to interfere with anything."

"I insist," Sandra says as she takes the paper bag full of seeds, fertilizers, hose rings and tools from Calypso's feet. She gently nudges Calypso towards the footpath and back inside the shop. They sit next to the counter, the top stacked with tens of new editions of _How To's_ on gardening and yard decorating. Sandra inspects her hand. Calypso classifies Sandra's touch under _soothing_ and _warm_, like hot chocolate and ambrosia. She wonders if the couple had a child, and whether this is the way humans cared for their children's boo-boos. The thought saddens Calypso a little.

"It's on Jerry, anyway," Sandra continues, facing her. "You don't have to say anything, dear. Come on and let's settle the account first. And don't worry - we'll get your wound cleaned in a jippie. Come on, now. Jerry! You useless bum, get us the first-aid kit!"

~0~

Leo slurps down the soup soundly. He whistles. "New recipe?"

"Yes," Calypso replies.

"It tastes good."

"Thank you."

"Will I get to know?"

"Get to know what?"

"The recipe."

"You can't even cook."

He huffs. He sheds his brown army jacket, revealing a black wife-beater. He twirls the spoon between his fingers like a majorette. "How bad can it be? It's just a little chemistry work. I'm good at chemistry."

Calypso rolls her eyes. She's been doing a lot of that as of late, the eye-rolling. And noticing Leo's well-toned arms. It's driving her nuts. "You're always good at everything."

Leo grins. "Except in singing."

"Yes. Minus that."

"What have you been up to?"

His tone catches her off guard. "Nothing," she says. "I'm just tired working on my loom all day. It gets old."

"You haven't touched your loom since yesterday," Leo interjects. "I know. The threads haven't been warped across the rapier."

Calypso blanches as Leo smiles wearily. "You're not exactly the best liar, Cal."

She imagines her grasp on her fork is as tight as she is wringing the boy's neck in her head. "You've been in _my_ room? How –"

"Hey, hey." Leo holds up his hands guiltily. "You haven't been exactly _around_, you know. I was wo – I just wanted to find out what's going on, okay?"

Her throat constricts a little as she sets down her fork without much force as she was intending to. She glares at him. "You weren't supposed to be snooping inside my room."

"Checking. Not snooping. But more importantly, why have you been to a garden house in Penn? And yesterday. You went to Starbucks in Charles. I saw the coffee grounds fertilizer next to your bed. The place is like a few stations away. And there's a gazillion Starbucks in this area."

"I was um… I was a – "

"I could've dropped you off, you know," he utters. "You could've gotten lost. I know the streets a tad better than you do."

"I'm not your responsibility, Leo, so you don't have to be my watchdog all the time," Calypso contends.

He pauses for a while, his spoon stopping midway between the bowl and his mouth. He avoids her eyes. "You could have just told me," Leo says, his voice almost a whisper.

"I uh –," Calypso can feel her cheeks coloring. She sips another spoonful. "I just wanted to do a little exploring of my own. You know. Get the gist of the world. On my own."

Leo doesn't answer. He stands up, leaving the dining room, his bowl still half-full of mushroom soup.

~0~

Calypso doesn't know why she's doing this, going inside Leo's workshop. They've always respected each other's space; another unspoken rule between them. She doesn't exactly understand why Leo is being stingy towards her – whatever it is, it must be her fault, and she can't have Leo have negative feelings towards her anyway. She thinks wanting to make up with a boy is normal. Especially if they live together. A basic, common instinct. Nothing major.

She finds the door in the basement ajar. She peeks inside.

She sees Leo crouched beside a hoard of scraped bronze, his brush skittering away as he covers the purple garnish from the previous coating of the metal. A couple of sweat drops from his forehead. His black wife-beater does not cover the aching muscles of his back, and Calypso resists the urge to massage the knots forming on his nape. Instead, she settles on knocking on the door.

She hears the clink of hard steel being pushed away as Leo made his way towards the ashen door. "Hey," Leo grins as he sees her. "Is it breakfast already?"

She sees humor in his eyes, and it irks her that Leo somehow knew that she would come to his den to apologize. The nagging, competitive side of Calypso does not want to bow down to Leo Valdez in all his tanned, sweating glory. She juts her chin up in defiance.

"Come with me to Cylburn tomorrow," Calypso replies in chagrin. She punches a piece of paper into Leo's callused hand. "Here's the address. It's up to you to accompany me. I'll be leaving at dawn."

The smirk in Leo's face widens, much to her dismay. "You betcha. Say, can we take the car?"

"Car? What car? We don't have a car."

"We do now." An embarrassing squeak escapes from Calypso's mouth when Leo grabs her hand and pushes her inside the workshop. Calypso groans in anger. This guy and his mood swings.

He fiddles with a couple of buttons on the control box on the wall and punches the big green button on the mechanism. A loud creaking noise swells as the electric motor pulls the garage door up, revealing a sedan fit for a 007 movie. The exterior is light and sleek. The shiny dark blue paint job is undeniably remarkable, and the leather seats are just begging to be sat on. The tires seem too big for a sedan, and Calypso supposes that Leo made the car from different spare parts, with a couple of tinkering and modifying.

"Personalized," he tells her, reading Calypso's expression.

_He looks very proud of his work_, Calypso observes. As he should be. She can't deny that the thing just purrs admiration, and she isn't even into cars.

"I got the tires from Blackie and his SUV. It took a while to alter the chassis but you know me. Ain't it a sweet ride?"

She rearranges her lips into an indifferent frown. "Perhaps a little. Now at least you can drive me instead of taking the subway."

"You're a horrible girl, you know that?" Leo beams at her as he puts an arm around her playfully and Calypso's heart does a weird gurgle. "Anyway, it seems that you can never ask someone nicely, so I guess I can take you there." Leo stops, thinking of something. "But why do you want to go so early in the morning? Having a fight with the roosters?"

"Google says the Cylburn gardens look prettier in the midst of the rising sun," she replies matter-of-factly.

Leo laughs good-naturedly. "You speak of the internet like it's a person."

"Oh, now that you mention it… Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

"I went to a garden house this morning, right? Well, the owner said some things that I didn't quite understand. Maybe it's a new word. You know, like _selfby_."

"_Selfie_," Leo corrects. "Go on."

"Well, he said – wait, what's the word? 'Fuck'? Yeah. I remember. He said 'fuck'. And 'shit'. He did say 'shit'." Calypso looks at him. "What is 'fuck' and 'shit'?"

~0~

* * *

**A/N: Pointless, pointless chapter, but thank you very much for reading! ****I'll try posting a less boring chapter in a few weeks. **If you have any ideas or prompts for the subsequent chapters, please let me know for much needed inspiration. And please review and send in your thoughts!

**P.S. - Does anyone have an _Archive of Our Own _account, by any chance? If it's okay, please PM me!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Very sorry for late update. I was overwhelmed with university and laboratory stuff, not to mention Typhoon Haiyan and the earthquake that hit our country a few days ago. I reside in the north so I wasn't affected much (physically and financially), but I was born in the south and partly raised in Central Philippines, and my family lives there. I am currently in shock.**

* * *

**Percy Jackson and The Olympians/The Heroes of Olympus**

**Title: **We're Not Sure What This Is But Let's Call It Partnership

**Summary: **Leo and Calypso's Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters is now open for business. Fruits and vegetables sold separately. – Leo/Calypso. Spoilers for The House of Hades.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything save this story. Don't sue, please.

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~0~

"Are you open?"

Leo hits his head on the hood of a 4WD with a loud _bang!_ and he swears colorfully under his breath. Another customer who can't read the _Now Open_ sign hung in front of the garage door. Figures. He rubs his head gingerly, his fingers soaking his curly hair with motor oil. He turns around to face the troublesome person that surprised him. "Are you dyslexic too? Cause I think I spelled the si – "

_Woah,_ Leo thinks, and the comeback lodges in his throat instantly.

A beautiful, statuesque brunette stands on the garage opening. She is wearing a black cardigan and slim-fit camisole, her wrists adorned with bracelets and trifles that can be bought for five cents each in a street vendor a couple of yards away. Leo imagines her walking toward him and kissing him senseless, until the vision dissipates as soon as it came.

He really falls in love with lovely girls too easily.

The girl smiles at him. "Hi. You must be Leo."

Leo is sure he made a very intelligent gurgle in response.

An impressive display of wrenches and used boxers adorn the clothesline of the garage, and the girl gazes at it with interest. "You have an amazing shop," she continues, turning back to Leo. Her expressive brown eyes glitter in the sunlight that Leo can't help but stare. "Can I take a look on your engine kits for my motorbike? Mine's broken down." She is still smiling.

"Uh-huh," Leo replies uncomfortably, his head throbbing.

They stare at each other for a few seconds. "Um, where are they exactly?" the girl prods.

Leo hits himself with an imaginary coconut. "I uh – come with me, please."

He can't believe the girl can smile even wider. "Thanks!" she chirps. She follows Leo into the storage room, heading towards the crates of pre-designed and personalized engine kits, along with back-up tool boxes and rigged oil coolers. Leo flicks the switch and the walls of the room immerses in the white light. The girl glows in enthusiasm and runs toward the wooden shelves where the crates are found.

Leo takes off the lid for her with a crowbar. The lid falls to the side and he puffs away the dust that accumulated at the rim of the box. He reveals the metal alloys stacked on top of the other, their models stamped with a press Leo designed himself. "What kind of motorcycle do you have?"

"A Ducati 1098. The one from 2008," she says with pride. She touches a labeled kit lightly.

He whistles. "Not bad, girl. You riding long?"

She shakes her head, and Leo is assaulted by the heady scent of her shampoo. "Just recently. I'm eighteen and I just got my first motorcycle from my part-time job paycheck. My parents are horribly uptight, but I got through them when I passed my entrance exams. Hey, is that for a Veyron?"

He looks at the direction her finger is pointing at. A silver W16 engine with a distinct _Bugatti_ symbol etched on one of the valve covers. "You know your stuff," Leo remarks, impressed.

She grins. "I have a crazy thing for cars."

Great. Leo sighs internally. Another girl that he's destined to moon over and is obviously unavailable, with her porcelain skin and beautiful eyes and swimsuit model body. She must have a super macho biker boyfriend that would pound Leo Valdez to recycled pulp. He doesn't know which is worse: the boyfriend part or the fact that she croons over engines.

_Just bite your cheek and keep your hands to yourself, Valdez,_ he reminds himself grudgingly. He straightens his back. _No matter how ridiculously hot they are. Keep it professional._

He opens the pack and inspects the bolts for any damages or hindering scratches. After finding everything intact, he places the alloys back and zips it into an airtight bag. The girl takes it from him instantly.

Leo's eyes widen a little. He tries to make a grab for the bag. "Um, it's a little heavy – "

"Don't worry about it." She waves him off. "I got it covered." She shoots him another smile.

They leave the storage room and head for the counter. He reaches out for a pad of receipt and grabs a pen, scribbling noisily beneath the words _Proof of Purchase. _Leo hands her the pad and the pen. "Please sign your name here and here, Miss. Warranty is for six months. That would be $80.68."

So far so good. The floral scent emanating from her makes the Adam's Apple on his throat bob painfully. He hasn't been around girls for a long, long time, extremely pretty girls more so, and he is way too used to Calypso and their constant squabbling to merit any experience on the flirting area of expertise. Calypso is undeniably beautiful, of course. The catch? She's certainly not human, and she really makes it clear everyday she's not on Team Leo.

Okay, sure. They kissed. Once. On the lips. A very _long _kiss. But that never stopped them from tearing each other to pieces last Wednesday, when they argued about ordering dim sum.

As he waits for the girl to finish signing her name, he studies the profile of her face, her big doe eyes, her mahogany hair, her pale complexion and thin lips. Her ears are rather pointy, elfish. And her eyelashes seem like they can sweep the floor in one go. Leo muses that she looks oddly familiar.

Her eyes crinkle as she hands him a carbon copy of her receipt. She looks amused. "A friend recommended this place; she wasn't mistaken even for a bit. Thanks so much for the help, Leo. I'm sure I'll be back someday." And with that, she leaves, without waiting for Leo to respond.

Tongue-tied and flustered, Leo glares at the receipt, feeling a little played by a girl who seems to know the effect she has on the male population. _Typical_, Leo gripes. It may have been a long time since he was around girls his age, but Leo can still remember those irritatingly cheerful snobs that pick on him relentlessly when he was in school with perfect clarity. All those divas taking advantage of his poor hormones –

Leo almost tears the receipt in his surprise. He gapes, his mouth open, and he tries rubbing the ink off, wondering whether it would disappear under the friction like a trick of the dust. Under the words _Gemini Lovette, _seven digits are written in blank ink, together with a small smiley face drawn on the corner. It doesn't come off.

~0~

Leo was welding a three-foot grill guard when the lights in the garage went out. "Huh? What the…? " He hears distinct protests from outside the house, and Leo figures that he wasn't the only one whose electricity was cut off.

He gropes for the off switch of the welding machine and unplugs it from the extension. Well, damn. He's supposed to finish the whole refurbishing tonight. Mr. Rouse's going to be pissed.

He sniffs the air, searching for any sign of gas in the air, and wishes that nothing hygroscopic and flammable is roaming the atmosphere of the garage. A small dash of flame erupts from his fingertips as he heads for the exit. He goes inside the living room. The eerie quiet produces goose bumps from Leo's forearms. "Calypso?"

No answer.

"Hey, Calypso. The whole town needs your sweet sunshine right now," Leo calls a little bit louder, his fire taking on an intense orange hue. He roams a bit, his crummy feet staining the vinyl floor. Crap. Calypso's going to flip tables.

The unnerving silence is starting to frazzle his nerves double time. "Please don't tell me you're scared of the dark, Cal. But hey, don't worry! Papa Leo is here."

He heads for the kitchen. Still no sign of the immortal goddess. "Calypso?" Leo's voice starts to thicken. What the hell is going on? Visions of monsters and evil gods torturing his friend cloud his mind, and he yells a little more urgently. The used pots and pans lay discarded on a sink in front of him. "Hey, Calypso? Calypso?"

He scrambles toward the dining room, and then the lights boom to life. The sudden flash blinds him for a second, but his dark eyes adjust to take in the scene before him.

What Leo notices first is the overabundance of food. His mouth automatically waters at the mixture of heavenly aroma permeating the air. Some he can't recognize, but his stomach growls over the sight of carbonara, crab casserole, Peking Duck rolls, quesadillas, and cinco de mayo nachos. He's sure his stomach is the happiest stomach in the world. Suddenly, Leo feels like dancing.

"You're speechless," a voice comments off-handedly, and Leo zeroes in on a beautiful woman wearing a red flannel shirt and dark blue jeans. She smirks like a smirking champ. "I have to say, this is an improvement," she says cheerfully.

"You look good in red," Leo blurts out, and Calypso's face flushes, emphasizing the compliment. "But what is all these, Sunshine? Are we celebrating something, like you kicking me out of the house for instance?" He eyes the casserole again. "I sure do have to get kicked out more."

Calypso's eternal forehead crinkles along with her eyebrows. "Isn't today your birthday?"

Silence.

"Birthday?" Leo croaks.

"April 27th. Your birthday. Or am I wrong?" Calypso clucks her tongue in disappointment. "I'm sure I got the date right. I must have – "

"No." Leo shakes his head, chuckling. "You're right. It is April 27th. I'm such a doof. I can't believe I forgot my own birthday." He knows he's not the first person to fail to remember his own birthday due to overwork, but still. Leo feels a little sad.

"You work too hard. I mean, I find it ridiculous, working on a bunch of scraps all day. I have to go down to the shop to make sure you have something in you so that you won't pass out. I feel like a scullery maid."

"Well, of course. You definitely look like one."

Calypso whacks him with a wooden spoon, and Leo laughs out loud despite the sting on his shoulder. "Ungrateful sprite," she mutters angrily. She glares at him. "Well, what are you waiting for? I didn't cook you all of these just for you to stare at and salivate on. Go on. Eat." She pushes him to a nearby chair, him shaking in laughter all the way.

"Eat," Calypso orders like a lieutenant-general, and Leo happily obliges. He can still see the smoke puffing out of the relleno, and he chomps down the nachos with much gusto.

Leo turns to her, his cheeks puffing with corn stuffing. "Wush ish yur wol plein?"

"Pardon?"

He swallows the remaining corn and continues. "Was this your whole plan?"

"Yes," Calypso replies, unabashed. "The others are supposed to come, but something came up. Something about an attack up north? Anyways, they couldn't come, but they said they could handle it so you don't have to worry. It's your day, after all."

Leo nods, understanding. "It's okay, I guess. Last year, everyone came. Even Reyna and Nico did. We attracted so many monsters that the chili restaurant was trashed when nightfall came. Had a restraining order shoved up my butt by the manager. Fun night."

"A night to remember," Calypso agrees.

"Figures why the gods wouldn't let that happen again. Hey, aren't you going to eat? You've made enough food to feed a whole army."

"You're already a legion yourself," she retorts. "I already ate."

He shrugs and moves on to the casserole. He was already on his third helping when a thought buzzes in his head. "The blackout," Leo starts. "Was that you?"

Calypso nods. "I had to lure you away from the shop to here in the dining room. You would have guessed something was off if I went there myself to take you, as you claim you are not as stupid as I've initially thought."

Leo chokes on his drink. "So you caused a major blackout in the city with your creepy magical powers just so you can surprise me with your super secret dinner party?" He shakes his head. This woman is unbelievable. "Have you ever heard of a fuse box?" he asks.

"No."

Leo chortles, his orange juice dribbling from the corners of his mouth. His stomach cringes at the food jiggling inside, doubling over more with his merry laughter.

"I don't understand what is funny," Calypso tells him, confused.

"Don't worry," Leo assures her, still laughing. "I don't either."

They talk about Leo's childhood and his past birthdays, leaving out the part of his mother's tragic death and Lady Hera. They laugh about the gravity-defying cakes his mom always made for him up until his fifth birthday, when his mother's shop was at its peak and she didn't have that much time to bake. Esperanza and Leo celebrated his birthday since then by working overtime in the shop – his mom was a certified workaholic, a trait she and Leo both shared – and memories with her tinkering are one of the things Leo cherished the most and clung onto.

"There was this one time," Leo starts, enjoying the crisp sound of his teeth munching on a handful of tacos. "That a guy was blatantly flirting with Mom, and green goo was practically spouting from his mouth like a geyser – he was a snotty prick, I tell you – and I can't remember exactly but I know Mom completely ignored him because I was crying about something. I might have set something on fire, or cut myself with a saw. I dunno, really. But the dude had guts, you know? Even offered Mom a shop in Jersey just to take her home for the night and – wait a minute. Holy Zeus, now I understand what he was talking about. Gods, I would rip him to pieces when I find him, I swear. Anyways, Mom kicked him out like a dust bunny. Damn, stupid simile. Well, you know what I mean. What I'm trying to say is that Mom's really had it bad for me. Can't even have any real friends without me tagging along in the equation."

"I must agree. You are an annoying child."

"Point taken, Sunshine. Besides, how can Mom ever justify having a son from a man he wasn't married to? By a Greek god, even? Getting knocked up by a god really is a topper in the 'Worst Things To Happen In Life' list. I mean, the whole concept just screams 'Hey, you. You're going to die early and miserably'."

"Then your mother must be a strong woman," Calypso supplies. "Now that you've put it that way. Raising you must have taken a lot of courage. And patience."

"Patience," he repeats thoughtfully. "You could say that. She's got a truckload full of 'em. Wonder why I never got that side of the bargain."

"You certainly take after your father. Lord Hephaestus has always been a little… restless."

Leo frowns slightly. It's weird that this elegant teenage girl in front of him had been born before his father. The implied friendship-ish between the two immortals is even weirder to consider. He clears his throat. "How come Dad visits you in Ogygia? Not that I have a problem, really."

Calypso seems to think about it for a moment. "Nothing comes to mind except for this: sympathy. No offense to either of you, but your father had always been the odd one out in Olympus. I know a lot argue that Hades takes that undesirable spot, but frankly Hephaestus sticks out like a sore thumb. Out of all the gods, he looks – well, you know what he looks like. That is why Lady Hera and Lord Zeus never really considered him as their child." She pauses, smiling apologetically at Leo. "You know how superficial we immortals can get. After eons of living, you thought we may have grown and fleshed out a couple of brains and hearts ourselves.

"So your father had been thrown away from Mt. Olympus. Exiled, the same way I had been. He must have seen himself in me, I suppose. And he does keep me updated with the modern world. And he gives me a few trinkets from places he's been, and new fringes for my loom."

"That's nice."

She smiles lightly. "He is one of the nicest Olympians I had the pleasure of meeting. He likes taking care of me."

"Sounds like Dad had a crush on – wait, hold up!" Leo exclaims hysterically. He yanks his curly hair upwards. "Please ignore what I just said! That's just wrong in so many – "

Calypso holds out a hand. "You are not entirely wrong, Leo Valdez. It was… completely unavoidable. You know how fast gods can fall in love. To you mortals, love must mean the entire world. It was a fairly small thing."

Leo stands up from his chair in reflex. His face takes on a beet red color as he stammers. "MY DAD HAD A FLING WITH YOU?! A _FLING_ FLING?! LIKE THE ONE WITH PICNICS AND SUMMER STUFF? OH MY GODS! HOW CAN YOU GUYS DO THAT? GODS! YOU CAN'T DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT ON SOMEBODY'S BIRTHDAY! THAT IS JUST FREAKING – "

"You are such an actress," she snaps. "Nothing happened, of course. I rejected my lord in an instant."

Leo blinks. "But you just said – "

"I would not enter a relationship with anyone who does not own my heart. Your father is a good man, but not a good husband, as Lady Aphrodite has showed. Moreover, I always fall in love with the people who are marooned to my island. That is my curse."

"Was," Leo corrects. He slowly retreats back to his seat as he looks at her sheepishly. "You are free, remember? No more island, no more boys. You're not cursed anymore."

Calypso smiles sadly. She gestures for him to continue eating. Only a few servings of duck are left on the table. "I'm not sure I can say that," she confesses.

"Well, you are. I set you free. You're welcome, by the way." Leo sniffs airily, forking a duck to his mouth.

"I did not expect you to do anything," she states.

Leo pretends not to be hurt at her tone. "Even after I promised?"

"Well, I did hope. But just a little." Calypso soothes the prickling feeling on her nape – a habit she gradually acquired from Leo. "I had been on the wrong end of broken promises too many times. I had to stop hoping."

"Even if it's all there is?"

"Hope is not everything," she tells him in a hush voice. "You really have not seen much of the world for you to say that."

"Your world, maybe," Leo ripostes, chuckling. "I don't know how old you are, but sometimes you sound like _abuela_. And hey, your world's just a small part of the universe, you know."

"I did not have the luxury to visit other worlds, as you recall," Calypso replies. "Nor have I been welcome. I am Atlas' daughter, enemy of the gods of Olympus. Conspirator. Traitor. Even with the amnesty, nothing can change that."

"Really, Cal? You're going to dump all the feels on me on my special day? Really?" Leo laughs good-naturedly. He puts down the fork with a resounding crash. "Man, that was awesome! How come you can cook all these stuff? Anyways, listen here, Cal. You're not alone anymore, got that? I repeat: you are not alone. It's a little cheesy, I know, but when you know there's somebody there, it's pretty cool, see? You, Hazel, and Piper. Let me set a date, and I'm sure you guys will get along swimmingly! Annabeth's gonna be a hard patch to cover, but she's awesome too. And you." He puts a hand on Calypso's shoulder. "Have your very own spaceship to my world – complete with needles and ladles and stuff."

Calypso turns her head down, avoiding his searching eyes. "Leo..."

"Well, we may be a little different – "

"_Little?_"

"Okay, sheesh. Tough crowd. A _lot_ different, but that doesn't mean you can't come to my world." Leo grins. "Who says you're not welcome? We'll have a party every time! I'll show you my world's not as dry and boring as yours. Carpe diem,_ amiga_! Carpe diem!"

At first, Leo stops himself from cheering when he sees Calypso's eyes tearing up. _What the fuck did I say wrong now?_ he panics, until two long arms strangle the oxygen out of his neck like a strong pair of branches. He feels Calypso's torso shudder in his surprised body.

"I'm sorry," Calypso inhales, chuckling and hugging him. "I know it is your birthday, but I needed this. Thank you."

Leo titters back, albeit awkwardly. He ignores the pang of signals shooting from his spinal column and instead draws circles on Calypso's back with the palm of his hand. This is a strange improvement from their no-touch policy, but Leo has to admit to himself that he likes it. "If this is compensation for the surprise dinner party, I think you may have miscalculated a bit."

"Do you want to wash the dishes?"

"No way."

"Happy birthday, Leo."

"Thanks. By the way, you're like a metal death trap. Your hug is very painful."

He can feel Calypso shake her head in amusement. She hugs him tighter.

~0~

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you awake?"

"Would I be talking if I'm not?"

"I'm sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night, but there's some flying object in my room. Would you like to check it out?"

"No."

"Please?"

"Oh, come on! It's my birthday – "

"It's almost midnight, you baby – "

"Who cares?"

"I do. Just please, do something! It's really flying, and it's making a strange buzzing noise."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"What?"

"I hope it's not what I'm thinking. Okay, I'm going. Shit, my vision's blurry – "

"Will you hurry up, Leo?"

" – and I feel so groggy. I'm so wasted, dang it. You must have drugged me last night – "

"I DID NO SUCH THING – "

"Ssshh! Why do you always shout, Calypso? You're waking up the neighbors."

"THEN CEASE YOUR WHINING! Gods, why am I always stuck with you? This is so – look! Look, Leo! It's the thing!"

"…"

"Kill it!"

"…"

"Leo?"

"..."

"Hey, Leo? Snap out of – "

"It's a cockroach."

"What?"

"It's a cockroach. A flying cockroach."

"Huh? What is that? We do not have that species in my former home. Whatever it is, it is keeping me from my slumber. Please step on it."

"But it's flying."

"And? What seems to be the problem?"

"Calypso, cockroaches are pests in this part of the world, and the ones that fly are pregnant. If I squish it I might, I dunno, spill the eggs or something."

"… That sounds ridiculously disgusting. So what are you going to do?"

"Can you just ignore it?"

"_What?!_ Are you _joking?_! LEONARDO VALDEZ! I JUST LEARNED THAT THIS THING IS A HOME-WREAKING VERMIN WITH WHIMPERING BABIES INSIDE! HOW CAN YOU – "

"Why don't you sleep in my room?"

"EVER SUGGEST I – I what?"

"You. Go sleep. In my room. For the time being, of course."

"But – "

"Don't worry. I'll sleep on the couch downstairs."

"… I must have put too much spice in your enchilada."

"Whatever. I'm beat, and there's a fucking flying cockroach in your room. I'm going back to sleep, Calypso. Just wake me up early tomorrow. We have three Hondas waiting for repair."

"Leo?"

"Yeah?

"What if it goes to your room? What if it flies there?"

"Calypso – "

"You won't even know I'm there! I don't snore, I promise."

"… Okay. Just keep your hands to yourself."

"Hah! You are so foolish to even think of that. Now come on, let's sleep together."

"You know, you sound really kinky when you say that."

"Kinky?"

"Never mind. Let's not keep the roosters waiting."

* * *

**A/N: The last dialogue scene was just an afterthought after I had my Bio class. Thank you very much for reading. Please drop a review! I would like to know more of your thoughts.**

**P.S. – To the one who made the Star Trek prompt (hilarious idea, by the way), I'd get back to you soon. **


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